“Oh, we’ll be all right together, won’t we?” George went on, pacifically. “You can have your bed moved wherever you would like it best.” He had already begun to undress, and, after hanging up his jacket, he took a photograph from an inside pocket and handed it to me. It was the photograph of a lady extremely lightly clad. “I’ve better ones than that,” said George, with a peculiar smile. He went to a corner near the window and raised a loose board. From the hollow beneath he drew out a large fat envelope, but, as he looked at me, he hesitated. “I’ll show them to you some other time,” he suddenly said, and returned the envelope to its hiding-place. He undressed rapidly, and got into bed. I took longer, and all the time I felt George’s eyes fixed on me curiously. I hated this lack of privacy. It wasn’t that I hadn’t undressed hundreds of times before other boys, when we were going to bathe; but this was different. I disliked the feeling of not being alone. I hated to have somebody watch me all the time I was taking off my clothes, or folding them. I determined to write to my father in the morning. When I was in bed and in the dark I wanted to think of Katherine. I did this every night; I looked forward to it, because it seemed to me that this was the hour when everything became clearer; besides, there was always the chance that if I thought of her I might dream of her. But now George began to talk. “Do you know any girls?” he asked. “No,” I answered, shortly. “Don’t you like them?” George persisted. “No.” “What do you think of Miss Izzy? Not bad――eh?” “I don’t know anything about her.” George was silent a few minutes. Then, just as I was beginning to think my own thoughts, he began again. “She’s nothin’ compared to Miss Johnson――the girl we were talkin’ about to-day――who’s gettin’ married. Miss Johnson was in the shop before Miss Izzy came. Ma sacked her for givin’ lip. Ma sacks them all.” George continued to talk until he grew sleepy, and I had no choice but to listen. CHAPTER XIX Next morning I was awakened by somebody singing, and opening my eyes I saw George, in his shirt and trousers, strutting up and down the middle of the floor, a hair-brush in his hand. It took me half a minute to realise where I was, but George, when he saw I was awake, proceeded to give me imitations of various music-hall artists, until there was a sharp rap at our door, and Aunt Margaret’s voice told him to remember what day it was. With that I remembered myself, and simultaneously made up my mind that I wasn’t going to church. I determined that now I was away from home I would be my own master, and do just what seemed good in my own eyes, and that I would begin this policy at once.